


Can’t Wait to Get My Hands on You

by Lonov



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe, Beard jokes, Drunken Shenanigans, Highschool AU, M/M, Underage Drinking, Underage Sex, lack of parental supervision, leather pants
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-01
Updated: 2013-04-06
Packaged: 2017-12-07 04:54:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 4
Words: 11,288
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/744474
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lonov/pseuds/Lonov
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Renly designs clothes (and has emotional hangups), Margaery dates a jock (and gives advice), and Loras wears leather trousers (and tries to regain his confidence). Crushing, confusion, pining, high school, and drinking—it’s all here!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Introductions

**Author's Note:**

> Characters herein do not belong to me, they belong to George RR Martin, and I'm not making any money from this.
> 
> Robert's age is not canonical. He is six years older than Renly in this universe.

It was only Loras's first day at Storm's End Highschool and already he hated the place. For one thing, the cafeteria smelled of fish. For another, the student body was huge—nearly triple the size of the school he’d gone to before he moved here, which had always seemed so small. After all, it didn't take long to charm 900 people, then promptly lose interest in all of them. But now he almost longed for those familiar faces. 

****

At Highgarden Highschool he had been a god. Storm's End was a blow to his ego. He hadn't made any friends yet. Several people had tried to get his attention, but he had only respectfully engaged them in conversation for something to do. He'd seen some attractive boys so far, but it was only novelty that made them appealing. No one had struck him as worthwhile just yet. Margaery had made many friends, including the captain of the football team, whose gaze fell to her chest more often than not. It made Loras flex in aggravation, but he didn’t complain. He was just relieved his parents had manipulated the school board to move her up a grade, so that she was a freshman with him. It was a great comfort knowing he had at least one ally here, even if she _had_ pranced out of school with her new man the moment the day ended.

 

Annoyed, Loras trudged through the huge school doors. He classes were a waste of time and his little sister had found friends before him. Loras huffed. He wanted to go home.

 

******

The next day was spent much as the one before, and the following week passed slowly. Margaery invited him to sit with her and the football team at lunch, but the table spent most of their time talking about things Loras didn't care about in the least. But as much as he wanted to ignore their conversation, he knew he shouldn't let his mind wander. Since his arrival in Storm's End, it always crept to unhappy places. He forced himself to pay attention to the conversation at hand.

****

The football players talked like neanderthals, but with less class. Their conversation consisted of snorts and slang that made Loras's ears ache, and the topic of discourse was obnoxious. Apparently, Robert Baratheon ("a king," one of the players insisted, "and a fucking genius!") had graduated from Storm's End six years ago, but kept in touch with his high school friends. They, in turn, kept in touch with their high school friends, and them with theirs, until it trickled down to the current football players. What resulted from this was that every month when Robert threw a huge party for all his old high school friends, they invited their mates, too, and half the population of the town aged eighteen to twenty-four had a big drunken orgy at the Baratheon household.

****

Or at least, that's what it sounded like. Loras tried very hard not to scoff at the gross immaturity of the entire situation.

****

Margaery kicked Loras in the shins.

********  
  


"Ouch!" Loras exclaimed, glaring at his sister. "What was that for?"

********  
  


"Don't look quite so pained to be here," Margaery hissed. "You've got that condescending look on your face."

********  
  


"My face _is_ a condescending look," Loras hissed back. "I can't help it. And it doesn't help that I'm surrounded by plebeians."

********  
  


"Well pretend you aren't," she replied with a glare. "Don't ruin this for me. I’m about to become the most popular girl in the school."

********  
  


Loras sighed. "Yes, all right," he muttered. "I'll see you at home, then."

********  
  


"Oh, Loras," Margaery sighed, reaching for him as he stood from the table. She dropped her hand. After a moment, and with an understanding nod, she said, "I'll see you at home."

********  
  


Loras threw away his uneaten lunch and left the cafeteria. Today was turning out to be just as miserable as the past week.

********  
  


With nowhere else to go and half an hour left in the lunch period, Loras headed for the library. He hadn't been given any homework yet, but for this reason he assumed no one else would be there, either, and he could sulk in peace.

********  
  


He was wrong on that front; an older student sat at one of the tables reading. Loras wandered into one of the book isles, sat on the floor, and put his head in his hands. He'd been at this school for a week already and had met zero interesting people. The girls were all predictable, the boys were all idiots, and the stares he got for being handsome didn't yield anything else. There were 3,000 people in this school, and no one gave a shit about Loras Tyrell.

It was not a feeling he was used to.

********  
  


"Fuck," he mumbled into his palms. "Fuck it. Fuck this town. Fuck this school. Fuck all the fucking people it in."

********  
  


"Well that's a bit forward, you don't even know me," a voice said.

********  
  


Loras jumped to his feet in alarm. "What?" He spun around to find the boy who had been sitting at the table. "What are you doing?" he asked, chagrined. He hadn't meant for anyone to overhear his rant. But now someone had, and he was...

********  
  


...Holy shit. Loras swallowed audibly, mouth suddenly dry. _Here_ was someone interesting. The boy in front of him was gorgeous. He had blue-green eyes the colour of a robin’s egg and full red lips. He must have been a senior, or an upperclassman at least; his shoulders were too broad to be younger than seventeen, and he had rather impressive facial hair.

********  
  


Loras didn't quite know where to look. If he had been at Highgarden he would have all his haughty confidence and self-esteem behind him. After just a week in Storm End's, though, he was without any of his former swagger.

****

"I'm getting a book," the boy said in response to Loras's question. "And you're... fucking the school?"

********  
  


"Yes, well," Loras said, drawing himself up to his full height—and although he was quite thin and small, he knew he could be imposing when he wanted to be. "This is a horrible school, and I thoroughly disapprove of most of the people in it."

********  
  


The boy smirked, as if he noted Loras's shift from hating all the people in the school to only hating some of them. "We're in the same situation there, then. Although I'm graduating at the end of the year, and you're stuck here for..."

********  
  


"Four more years," Loras groaned. He really _was_ trying not to be whiny and petulant, but he very much needed someone to complain to.

********  
  


The boy gifted Loras with soft smile. "What's your name, freshman?" he asked, sitting on the floor. He patted to spot beside him.

********  
  


Loras weighed his options. He could sit on the floor and possibly befriend a gorgeous boy, or he could keep his expensive pants clean but leave the library as sad as ever.

********  
  


Finally, he sat. The other boy smiled, amused. "My name is Loras Tyrell. And yours?"

********  
  


"Renly Baratheon. Good to meet you, Loras Tyrell. That's a very pretty name."

********  
  


Loras preened; Renly was rather correct, in his quite biased opinion.

********  
  


"Oh—Baratheon. Your brother's infamous at this school, isn't he?"

********  
  


Renly's smile disappeared. "Among the young drunks and the jocks, yes. I didn't peg you for either of those."

********  
  


"I'm not," Loras insisted. "Well, at my old school I was a bit of a jock, I suppose, but you don't have fencing here. In any case, my sister seems to be seducing the football team, and I had the pleasure of sitting with them at lunch for the past week. They talk about the Baratheon Bash to an extent where it's actually pathetic."

********  
  


A small smile cracked over Renly's face, and Loras could tell he'd redeemed himself. "Fencing?" Renly asked.

********  
  


"Yes," Loras said, accustomed to explaining it. "It's the game with the swords."

********  
  


There was a smirk. "I'm aware," Renly said. "My brother Stannis actually got me lessons for a while, but my heart wasn't in it and I was never very good."

********  
  


"You fenced?" Loras asked, pleased to find that they had something in common.

********  
  


"For a time. They do have an archery team here, if you're interested in the less common sports. Personally," Renly said with a smile, "I like to spend my time in here," he gestured around them, "and in the art and design studio."

********  
  


The bell rang. Loras's heart dropped.

********  
  


"Which is where I'm headed now," Renly finished, standing and sliding a book off the shelf. He tucked it under his arm and held his hand out, "It was very nice to meet you, Loras Tyrell."

********  
  


"And you," Loras replied, head spinning as he shook the other boy's hand. He didn't want Renly to leave; what if he never saw him again?

********  
  


Loras glanced around, desperate for something to preserve the moment. "Are you—?" 

But Renly was already gone. 

****

 

******

****

Loras went straight to Margaery's room when he got home. He laid on her bed - huge and haughty and royally purple - and waited for her arrival. It had been such a long day, so boring and pointless. His classes weren't exciting, his teachers dull, the student population perpetually disappointing. And yet...

********  
  


And yet, Renly Baratheon. With his beard and his shoulders and his experience in fencing, and eyes such a deep, mesmerizing blue that Loras felt electrified just thinking about them.

********  
  


Then again, he had always been a bit of a romantic.

********  
  


"Oh, there you are," Margaery said when she entered her room. "I was looking for you."

********  
  


"I've been waiting here."

********  
  


"I can see that," she said, stretching out next to him on the bed. "How was your day?"

********  
  


Loras sighed. "The same as every other this past week," he admitted. "How's your boyfriend?"

********  
  


"He isn't my boyfriend," Margaery said, lightly shoving her brother. "But he's the most popular person in the school, so I'm going to let him think that if he wants to."

********  
  


"You're very power-hungry for a girl your size."

********  
  


"Thank you."

********  
  


Loras laughed, and Margaery grinned at him. "Anyway," she said, "I've been trying to scope out any attractive gay men for you, and I have discovered several options."

********  
  


"Oh?" Loras inquired, silently impressed by his sister's detective skills. She always did have a way of manipulating the people around her to get what she wanted.

********  
  


"Theon Greyjoy."

********  
  


"No idea who that is."

********  
  


"He's attractive enough but a bit of an ass, I think. Okay... Jon Snow."

********  
  


"He's not gay," Loras replied wistfully. "I already asked someone. Bloody gorgeous, though."

********  
  


Margaery hummed in agreement. "He looked like he could be," she explained. Loras punched her in the arm.

********  
  


"All right, all right. Renly Baratheon."

********  
  


Loras sprang up in the bed and gazed down at his sister. "Seriously?" he asked, excitement suddenly coursing through his veins.

********  
  


"Yes. Robb Stark—that's my new non-boyfriend, by the way—was telling me about it. Apparently Robert Baratheon likes to talk when he's drunk, which is usually, and he spends a good deal of time belittling his brother for his preferences."

********  
  


Something cold slithered down Loras's spine. "That's a fucked up thing to do. Renly's the nicest person I've met in the whole bloody school. What an ass of a brother."

********  
  


Margaery eyed him a moment. "You've met him, then," she observed. "You like him?"

********  
  


A small smile stole over Loras's face. "We spoke in the library today'' he murmured. "And he may be the most beautiful person I’ve ever seen."

********  
  


Beaming, Margeaty said, "Brother, you're fawning."

********  
  


Loras had the decency to blush. "I was in a terrible mood and he cheered me. I probably looked like a prick, too, moping about and mumbling to myself about the fucking place when he found me."

********  
  


"And he decided he wanted you to fuck him rather than the town?" Margaery suggested.

********  
  


Loras smirked, "hopefully. He's..." he thought for a moment. "He's quite a man, though, with a beard and everything. Even if heis gay he won't be interested in a boy so fragile he looks like a girl."

********  
  


"I don't know whom you're referring to," Margaery said. "I'm sure he only talked to you in the first place because of that gorgeous face of yours."

********  
  


"Maybe," Loras said.

********  
  


"Probably," Margaery corrected.

********  
  


"Possibly," Loras stressed.

********  
  


"Definitely," she decided.

********  
  


Loras rolled his eyes and hugged her.

****

 

******

 

Loras went straight to the library the next day at lunch, but Renly wasn't there. He walked through all the isles and waited for several minutes at one of the tables, but Renly never arrived. After ten minutes Loras decided Renly wasn't going to show up, and devised a plan to find him.

********  
  


Renly had said he spends his time between the library and the art studio. Loras figured he would find him there; the only problem being he didn't actually know where that was.

********  
  


The school was huge, but the art and design studio had to be somewhere. Just as he was rising from the table to go on a quest to find it, a girl with stark red hair entered the library.

********  
  


"Excuse me," Loras said.

********  
  


The girl looked up, and her eyes widened under Loras's gaze. She blushed.

********  
  


Loras tried very hard not to smirk. She was already wrapped around his finger.

********  
  


"I was just wondering," he said with a practiced innocent expression, "if you would mind telling me where the art and design studio is?"

********  
  


The girl nodded excitedly. "Yes, of course. I'm just going there now after I return this book. I  could take you there."

********  
  


"That would be perfect..."

********  
  


"Sansa."

********  
  


Loras smiled sweetly, "That would be perfect, Sansa."

********  
  


The girl blushed and hurried to put her book in the return box. Loras gave a silent cheer. The thought of possibly getting to see Renly soon made his heart beat double.

********  
  


"It's not far from here," Sansa assured him, leading him into the hallway. "Are you new here? I haven't seen you before."

********  
  


"I recently moved here from Highgarden. It's a town about five hours away."

********  
  


"I hope you like it here," she said. "What's your name?"

********  
  


"Loras Tyrell."

********  
  


Her eyes widened expansively. "Oh," she said, as if suddenly struck with understanding. "You're Loras Tyrell."

********  
  


“Have people been talking about me?” Loras asked, preening.

 

“Not people,” she said cryptically. “Just one.”

********  
  


Before Loras could inquire as to who, she stopped walking. “This is the art and design studio,” she said, gesturing to the doorway in front of them.

********  
  


It was painted with a Banksy-esque monkey holding a sign that said, “Laugh now, but one day we’ll be in charge.”  Loras began to wonder if he was in over his head.

********  
  


“You can walk in,” Sansa told him with a tentative smile. “There aren’t a lot of people here now, anyway. Most of the seniors leave for lunch, and most of the underclassmen sneak out with them.”

****  
** **

Holding his breath in a poor attempt to keep his nerves under control, Loras stepped into the room.

****  
** **

It must have been the messiest place in the school. Even the empty tables had old paint stains covering them, and the entire room smelled strongly of turpentine. Various easels lined the side wall with drying pictures on all of them, and at one table two students leaned over a pottery wheel and not-so-accidentally smeared clay on the table.

****  
** **

Three or four kids sat on tarps, painting something onto a wide canvas on the floor. Another few sat on computers in a corner, working with what appeared to be some complicated architecture software. They glanced up when Loras entered the room, but none of them were Renly. Loras’s excitement began to falter.

****  
** **

“Were you looking for anything in particular?” Sansa asked, in an effort to extend her stay at Loras’s side.

****

“I was actually looking for Renly Baratheon,” Loras ventured. He felt silly now, coming all the way to the art and design studio just to find a bunch of paint-covered strangers and no Renly at all.

****  
** **

“He’s in that corner,” Sansa said, her face falling a bit. She pointed to a figure with his back to them at a far table. “He’s quite immersed, so—”

****  
** **

“Thanks,” Loras breathed, already walking away. His heart beat faster and faster as he approached the corner table.

****  
** **

Renly didn’t move at Loras’s approach, and Loras wondered if he hadn’t heard him walking over. He's quite immersed, Sansa had said. Maybe he was busy, and Loras shouldn’t break him away from whatever he was doing; Renly might get annoyed.

****  
** **

Loras decided pretend he was back at Highgarden and his self-esteem was still inflated enough to do or say whatever he wanted. Even if his confidence wasn’t what it used to be, he could pretend it was.

****  
** **

“Excuse me,” he said, sitting across from Renly at the table.

****  
** **

Renly jumped, surprised, and lifted his eyes from his work. When he realised it was Loras a smile broke across his face.

****  
** **

“Loras Tyrell,” he said, “what brings you to my corner of the art and design studio?”

****  
** **

Loras grinned. “Well it certainly isn’t that,” he said, pointing to a nearby portrait of a naked female.

****  
** **

Renly laughed. “No, that’s certainly not what brought me over, either,” he said, and he gave Loras an expression he could only describe as playful, electric eyes wide and nose scrunched. “Are you here to see me?” Renly asked, leaning his head onto one hand. Loras wondered, for a split second, what the deep brown stubble would feel like against his skin.

 

 

“Yes,” Loras said, pulling himself from his daydreams. “You were nice to me yesterday.”

****  
** **

“Mm, I was. Even after you expressed such utter hatred toward me and the whole school.”

****  
** **

He was teasing. There was a twinkle in his eye the likes of which Loras had never seen before.

****  
** **

“I hadn’t met you before that,” Loras said. He bit his lip in a practiced, careful way and mentally whooped when Renly’s eyes fell—only for a second—to his lips. “But now I’ve changed my mind about this place.”

****  
** **

Renly’s gaze dropped, and Loras noticed the sketchpad in front of him.

****  
** **

“What are you drawing?” he asked.

****  
** **

“Clothes,” Renly replied, picking up the sketchpad and flicking through it. “Always clothes. I want to be a fashion designer, so in school I sketch my inspirations, and at home I actually put the fabrics together.”

****  
** **

“Really?” Loras asked, intrigued. “Can I see it?”

****  
** **

After a moment in which Loras could practically see Renly weighing the options, he pressed the sketchpad into Loras's hand.

****  
** **

Loras flipped through page after page of women’s and men’s fashion. Just before he got to the suit Renly was currently working on, he stopped for a moment on the page in front of it. A thin, angled model stood proudly in flowing shirt and pants combination that looked like it came straight out of the Middle Ages. A tumble of long, curled brown hair fell to his shoulders.

****  
** **

He looked up and locked eyes with Renly. “Nice hair,” he said.

****  
** **

Renly snatched the sketchpad back. A soft red sat atop his cheekbones, and Loras rather liked it there. In fact, he’d like it very much if that blush took up permanent residence.  “Was there something you wanted?”

****  
** **

Loras grinned. “Did you draw that outfit for me?"

****  
** **

Renly stayed silent. Across the room Sansa stared at the both of them. Loras lifted a hand to wave at her.

****  
** **

“I might have,” Renly said carefully.

****  
** **

“Will you make it for me so I can wear it around?”

****  
** **

Visibly relaxing, Renly said, “Sure I will. It’ll be a pretty price, though. Expensive fabrics.”

****  
** **

“Splendid,” Loras said. “My parents are rich.”

****  
** **

Renly laughed. “You have no modesty. Have you looked into the archery club?”

****  
** **

“I forgot about it, to be honest,” Loras confessed. “I’m still trying to find my way around the school.”

****  
** **

Renly nodded. After a moment he said, "I saw your sister talking to Robb Stark this morning.”

****  
** **

“Who?”

****  
** **

“Captain of the football team,” Renly elaborated; Loras nodded, remembering what Margaery had said the previous night. “She looked downright regal surrounded by the attention of the popular crowd. It’s funny. I think your family must be very interesting.”

****  
** **

“We are,” Loras assured him, and Renly laughed again. “Margaery and I are very close. We have two brothers, but they’re older so they stayed in Highgarden.”

****  
** **

“Do you wish you could have stayed with them?” Renly asked.

****  
** **

“That,” said Loras as he smiled slowly, “I am still deciding.”

****  
** **

And as he said it he realised that he was still deciding. He was giving Storm's End High School another chance, and it was all because of Renly Baratheon. Renly Baratheon, with his mood shifts as fast as lightning—humorous, sincere, serious, and back again—with a nose that scrunched when he laughed, and blue eyes like hydrangeas.

****  
** **

"Well, I hope you come to like it here,” Renly said. “Just stay away from Mr. Baits, it's been confirmed that he's a vampire."

****  
** **

"Oh?" Loras said, trying not to laugh. "Confirmed by whom?"

****  
** **

"By me, of course. I saw his drinking blood last Wednesday. He looked as if he was enjoying it, so I felt a bit sorry for him and decided not to tell the administration. Could still be dangerous, though."

****  
** **

Unable to stop himself this time, Loras laughed out loud. "Doesn't he teach Ethics?"

****  
** **

Renly just shook his head sadly. "That's the unfortunate part."

****  
** **

When the period was over Loras left wondering if he'd ever laughed so much in one sitting.

  
The next day, when Loras again went to the art and design studio, and sat across from a sketching Renly, it occurred to him that he’s never been so interested in anyone in his life.


	2. Confusion

The following two weeks steadily improved Loras’s impression of Storm High. He realised the day after his first venture into the art and design studio that Sansa was in one of his classes, and it was a relief to finally have someone to talk to. He spoke with one of the physical education teachers about joining the archery club, and through that he met the very-much-straight Jon Snow (who was an excellent archer) and the questionable Samwell Tarly (who was not). He spent lunch periods in the art and design studio watching Renly intermittently sketch and leaf through fabric catalogs while they talked.

  
  


Two and a half weeks after Renly had first talked to Loras in the library, he invited him to come out with him, Sansa, and some of their friends. It was Friday night and Loras was thrilled to _finally_ have plans with Renly. Not that he said as much when he was asked. He’d only nonchalantly said “sure” at school that Friday, right before the bell rang to end the lunch period. He hadn’t mentioned how fast his heart was beating or how thrilled he was to be going out with Renly. Even if it was just as friends in a group, and even if Renly had yet to explicitly show any non-platonic feelings toward him.

  
  


So it made sense that after school on Friday Loras was fully in a state of distress. It was his first out-of-school chance to make a good impression on Renly, and if it went well the two of them could become something more. And while Loras wasn't entirely sure what that "more" would be, he pictured it with a lot of laughing and teasing and kissing.

  
  


“ Are you daydreaming about him again?” a voice asked from behind, and Loras jumped.

  
  


“Margaery, don’t sneak up on me,” he said. “Help me choose what to wear tonight.”

  
  


She smiled genuinely and wrapped her arms around her brother in a hug. “We’ll choose the best non-date date outfit ever,” she promised. “I’m so glad you managed to find someone here. You were so upset right after the move.”

  
  


“And I’ll be even more upset if you don’t help me pick out something to wear. He wants to be a fashion designer, my clothes have to impress him.”

  
  


Margaery nodded slowly, calculating. “How many teal shirts do you have?”

  
  


Loras frowned. “Teal? Just the old one I wore for the month Willas was in the hospital.”

  
  


“Hm. No, that’s too worn out.” A flash of revelation crossed her face. “Oh, Loras,” she said slowly, smile increasing by the second. “It’s been so long since we’ve gone shopping together.”

  
  


Loras grinned.

  
  


Ever since they were old enough to do things on their own, Margaery and Loras had gone shopping together. They would call up the personal driver their parents had reserved for emergencies, go to the nearest shopping center, and lose track of time. Since their parents were so rarely home, and spent the majority of every month in far away countries for work, there was no one to decide what constituted an “emergency” except Margaery and Loras, and usually their emergencies were of the fashion variety. When they arrived at a store, they each picked out every item they desired and together brought an avalanche of clothes to the dressing room, where they would model each outfit for the other and decide together what looked best. With the help of their parent’s credit cards they would buy whatever suited them.

  
  


Typically these endeavors took the whole day, but as they only had three hours until Loras had to meet up with Renly and the others, they sped through the one store after the next in an attempt to find what Margaery had dubbed the “Loras-is-so-getting-action-with-a-bearded-man” ensemble.

  
  


Loras told her she was being too hopeful, although the only difference between what she was saying and what he was thinking was that she was saying it out loud.

  
  


An hour before Loras had to meet his friends, he and Margaery took their bags of clothes into the back of their hired car and drove home. Loras was buzzing with excitement. The outfit Margaery had picked out reached outside his comfort zone, but it felt good. When they went up to Loras’s room and he changed into the teal t-shirt and trousers Margaery had insisted upon, he was beaming.

  
  


“Oh, that is perfect,” Margaery said, very self-satisfied. “You look hot, Loras. Renly’s going to see your ass in those trousers and lose his mind.”

  
  


Loras’s stomach did a flip. “You don’t think—it’s not too much, is it?”

  
  


“Leather pants are always too much,” Margaery informed him. “And that’s why they’re perfect.

  
  


“It’s so...” Loras walked back and forth across the room “... _tight_.”

  
  


Smirking, Margaery said, “that’s the point of it, darling. What do you think all the boys will say when they see you? They’ll say, ‘wow, I bet he’s as tight as his pants are.’”

  
  


“ _Margaery_!” Loras exclaimed, looking in shock at his sister. “You can’t talk like that!”

  
  


“You’re wearing _leather pants_. Who’s the more profane one in this scenario?”

  
  


Loras grumbled his agreement. She was right. The leather was snug on his skin, hugging every curve of his sports-toned muscles, and he felt obscene. And constricted, in certain areas, but some things had to be sacrificed for the greater good.

  
  


When he looked in the mirror a surge of warmth went through his body. He looked good. Margaery was right—teal was the perfect colour on him, and it looked excellent with the black leather.

  
  


“Your ride is here,” Margaery whispered, winking. “Good luck, brother.”

  
  


Loras squeezed her hands and hurried out the door.

  
  


Sansa had promised to give Loras a ride; Jon Snow, her step-brother and Loras’s friend from archery, had just recently gotten his driver’s license and was happy to drive anyone. When Loras opened the back-door of the car, both Sansa and Jon made surprised noises.

  
  


“Y-you,” Sansa said, eyes wide. Loras smiled sweetly at her. It seemed the leather was working its magic.

  
  


“Those are some interesting trousers,” Jon said, pulling the car out of the driveway and in the direction of the local music venue they were going to.

  
  


“Are they?” Loras asked innocently. “This is how everyone used to dress on Friday nights when I lived in Highgarden.”

  
  


“It looks nice,” Sansa breathed.

  
  


Loras grinned at her. “Thanks.”

****

 

******

****

The music venue Dragon Fire was rather small but bursting with people. The lesser-known local bands that had already performed, and were giving autographs to fans milling around them; the band going on next was beginning to set up their instruments on the tiny stage.

  
  


“Jon. Jon!” someone called. Jon, Sansa, and Loras turned to see Renly coming toward them. Loras’ stomach exploded into nerves.

  
  


“This place is really packed tonight. I was worried I wouldn’t find you,” Renly said. Several people bumped into their group trying to move around; there were so many people around them Renly had to shout to be heard. “Valyrian Steel is going on in about twenty minutes. I think they’re doing songs from the new EP.”

 

“I hope they do, I haven’t heard it yet!” Sansa said.

  
  


“I downloaded it last week and it was amazing,” Jon said excitedly.

  
  


Renly nodded enthusiastically. “Which was your favorite song? I’m trying to decide between ‘Milk of the Poppy’ and ‘Ships’.”

  
  


“‘Milk of the Poppy’ was my favorite by far,” John said.

  
  


Renly turned to Loras for the first time. “What was your favorite?”

  
  


“I’ve never heard them before,” Loras said, wondering if he should have listened to the EP the night before so he and Renly would have something in common musically.

  
  


Renly only nodded, “it’s good you’re hearing them tonight, then, or I’m not sure we could be friends.”

  
  


“And what if I hate them?” Loras asked. Challenging Renly was one of his favorite things.

  
  


“Then we certainly couldn’t be friends,” he replied with mock-seriousness, and Loras laughed.

  
  


Renly looked down to avoid stepping on a spilled drink on the floor, and Loras could almost sense the moment he noticed the leather. Renly’s eyes widened.

  
  


“Apparently that’s what they all wear to go out in Highgarden,” Jon supplied. Loras was infinitely thankful with how quickly he’d been able to come up with that lie before.

  
  


“Don’t people wear things like this here?” Loras asked, tilting his head to look at his ass in the pants. “If they don’t, they should start.”

  
  


Jon snorted. Renly muttered something that sounded a lot like, “I’m not sure we could handle it.”

  
  


They joined a group of kids Renly and Sansa knew from art and design club. Loras had seen some of the students before, when he went to the art and design studio to eat lunch with Renly, but he didn’t know any of them by name. He waited for Renly to introduce them, but Renly didn’t.

  
  


In fact, Renly wasn’t looking at him at all. He was talking to a handsome boy Loras had seen before on the architecture programs on the computer, and they were laughing together.

  
  


Loras’s heart plummeted.

****

Jon, at least, seemed to be in the same situation Loras was. He knew some of the art kids through Sansa but wasn’t good friends with any but Renly. He stood next to Loras and looked calmly at their surroundings. He didn’t seem uncomfortable, but he didn’t look like he was having fun, either.

  
  


“Do you hang out with Sansa and Renly a lot?” Loras asked him, partly to make conversation but mostly so it looked like he had friends. Sansa and Renly certainly did, but they didn’t seem eager to share.

  
  


“Sometimes,” Jon said. “I’m not a big fan of huge groups like this,” he gestured to the fifteen or so people around them, “but I wanted to see Valyrian Steel.”

  
  


“Hm,” Loras said.

  
  


Jon watched him with intelligent eyes. “You seem like the type to look a group like this. All that attention,” he smiled.

  
  


“I would, usually,” Loras said. “If I didn’t feel as if I’ve just been snubbed by Renly. I thought he thought I was... interesting, at least. But it’s occurring to me now that he only wants me there when he has no one else to charm.”

  
  


“Well, I wouldn’t know much about Renly’s _interests_ ,” Jon said, very carefully. _He knows,_ Loras thought, _he totally knows how I feel about Renly_. “But I will say this: Renly hasn’t had an easy life. About a year ago he came out of the closet and into the fire... so to speak. His brothers treat him like shit because of who he is. And he talks sometimes about how he doesn’t care about what they think, but I think in a way he does, because they’re almost parental figures for him, as fucked up as that sounds. One’s an alcoholic and one’s a complete prig, but they’re the closest thing he has to parents, and I think he struggles with himself a lot because—”

  
  


“Wait,” Loras said. “You’re saying—he doesn’t have parents?”

  
  


“No,” Jon confirmed solemnly. “They died a long time ago. Which is why, despite how little he cares for his brothers, he still has problems coming to terms with himself sometimes. In terms of his sexuality, I mean.”

  
  


Loras’s head was spinning. How could he not know this about Renly? How could Renly have never told him? It wasn’t something one could bring up in typical conversation, sure, but Renly could have told him this in the almost three weeks they’d known each other.

  
  


“How do you know?” Loras finally replied.

  
  


“I listen,” Jon said. “I observe. No one is exceedingly complicated, if you understand where they’re coming from.”

 

****

Valyrian Steel came on stage and the room roared to life. As the first chord struck, people went wild; they danced, shouted along with the lyrics, thundered through the crowd in an attempt to get to the front of the stage. One boy crawled up next to the guitarist, who unceremoniously shoved him back off.

  
  


It was far more hectic than Loras had imagined it would be. Bodies on every side of him pushed and pulled in every direction, and Loras, thin as he was, was easily pushed with them.

  
  


An overweight, sweating man beside Loras rocked to the right and almost caused him to fall. Just before he hit the ground, Jon caught him.

  
  


Loras was furious. First Renly invited him here, and got Loras’s hopes up, and acted as if he wanted, at least, to be friends. Then Loras had gotten here, and Renly had met up with his other friends, and had proceeded to ignore him. And now disgusting, sweat-covered people were knocking into Loras on all sides, and the music wasn’t even that good, and Renly was _staring_ at him. Renly had seen him almost shoved to the ground.

  
  


Loras glared back at him and turned to fight his way back through the crowd. He had a personal driver if he ever needed one, and for the second time that day, he did. He was leaving.

  
  


Furious, Loras exited Dragon Fire. There would surely be a bruises on his arms tomorrow from being knocked into so many times, and the gross amount of body heat in the place made sweat drip down his legs. He dialed the number for his driver and gave him the building’s address.

  
  


“Loras!” he heard someone call after him. He knew that voice. “Loras, where are you going?”

  
  


Loras spun around. He was annoyed and angry, but more than anything else, he was hurt. He felt stupid. He’d thought tonight would turn out wonderfully, and he and Renly would become closer, maybe even become something more than friends. Instead he felt stupid. He was covered in other people’s sweat, his ears were still ringing from how loud the music was, and Renly barely cared about him at all. It was like some cosmic joke that now, when he was leaving, Renly finally wanted to talk; because he was so desperate to thoroughly reinforce how _nice_ he could be even when he didn’t give two shits about Loras.

  
  


“I’m going home,” Loras told him.

  
  


Renly looked frozen. “You’re leaving? I... Are you not enjoying yourself?”

  
  


“Well, you invited me here and then ignored me completely, so, no, I’m not really enjoying myself,” Loras said frankly.

  
  


“Loras, I didn’t mean to,” Renly said sincerely, “I was glad you came—I _am_ glad.”

  
  


"Unfortunately, it didn't seem that way,” Loras muttered. The slim, black car belonging to Loras’s driver pulled up in front of Dragon Fire. He gave Renly a nod, stepped into the car, and shut the door behind him.

****

 

******

****

Later that night Loras lie awake in bed, thinking over the evening’s events. He’d yelled at Renly, and been rude to him, when Renly had only ever been nice to him.

  
  


_Except when he was ignoring you for his other friends_ , a voice whispered back.

  
  


Loras scrunched his eyes shut tightly. He’d grown closer to Jon, at least; if only Jon were the boy he was interested in. But there were more important things than boys, Loras struggled to remind himself. He should spend less time thinking about Renly and more time working on improving his archery stance, and trying to find a nearby fencing club. He ignored the voice that told him Renly probably knew where one was.

  
  


The next Monday at school Loras sat with Jon and the archery club at lunch. He listened half-heartedly to Sam’s story about some girl named Gilly, and resigned himself to counting the days until the end of the school year. Only nine more months to go.

  
  


Loras didn’t see Renly, and he didn’t go looking for him. For once he was glad about the enormous population of the school. He flirted with other boys in class and ignored Sansa when she tried to talk to him. She’d left him to his own devices on Friday, too, and even though it didn’t hurt the same way Renly ignoring him had, he still didn’t want to talk to her.

  
  


“You never come to the art and design studio anymore,” Sansa said one day, cornering him as soon as the bell rang to dismiss them from class.

  
  


Loras barely looked at her. “I know.”

  
  


Frowning, she said, “Well you should come back. Renly’s been asking about you. He told me to try to talk to you in class but you haven’t been talking to me, either.”

  
  


With the most irritated expression Loras could conjure, he looked at Sansa and said, balefully, “Okay.”

  
  


She withered under his gaze. “Renly says he wants to talk to you but he wouldn’t tell me what it was about.”

  
  


“Right,” Loras said, heading toward the door.

  
  


Sansa hurried to keep up with Loras as he walked away. “Loras, you have to listen to me. Just—just come to the Baratheon Bash this Saturday. He told me to invite you!”

  
  


Loras rolled his eyes and left the room.

****

 

******

It’s not that Loras was too angry to talk to Renly. It would just be easier to pretend he didn’t matter. If Loras tried to be friends with him, and spend lunches with him, and smile with him and laugh with him as though he was happy with only being friends forever, he felt he might burst. The thought of it made him wince. He’d like Renly beyond anyone he ever had before, and Renly was free to not like him back. He was free to like other friends better and he was free to only want to talk to Loras sometimes.

  
  


But in that case Loras couldn’t stick around. He couldn’t stay friends with him knowing it was only for sometimes, only when Renly wanted someone to talk to while he sketched.

  
  


_Maybe he didn’t even want that, but he was too polite to turn you away._

  
  
Loras clenched his fists and he made an effort to think about something else.


	3. Shenanigans

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: beard jokes full steam ahead.

The school spent the next week abuzz with excitement over the upcoming Baratheon Bash. At lunch Jon talked about last month’s events and invited Loras to come. At home Margaery talked about how excited she was and invited Loras to come. In class on Friday Sansa passed Loras a note that invited him to come.

********  
  


_Fine, I’ll be there,_ he scribbled back, barely managing to keep his letters undercase. If for no other reason, he wanted people to stop asking him to go. And, he decided, there would be so many people in Renly’s house—which better be big, Loras thought, because at least a hundred kids from Storm High were planning to go to the party, probably more, in addition to all of Robert Baratheon’s friends—that he doubted Renly would be able to find him, anyway.

********  
  


The party would be fine, Loras reasoned. So long as his heart stopped beating so fast.

****

******

****

“Don’t tell me you’re wearing that,” Margaery said at nine o'clock on Friday. It was time to leave for the party—the Baratheon Bash, as it were, though Loras thought the name was stupid—and his sister was finally, _finally_ stepping out of her room. She’d been in there with the door shut getting ready since they’d gotten home from school.

********  
  


“Don’t tell me _you’re_ wearing _that,_ ” Loras retorted, looking disparagingly at her outfit. Or lack thereof. “It’s your body to show off how you like, Margaery, but you’re going to freeze in that. Storm’s End is much colder than Highgarden.”

********  
  


“I don’t care if I freeze so long as I’m the most popular girl in school.” Margaery said.

********  
  


“Fine,” Loras said. He was thinking about Renly, and going to Renly’s house, and what would happen if he saw Renly when he was there, and if it would be awkward and if he would get drunk. He felt like getting drunk. “Do whatever you want."

********  
  


“Your outfit would be nicer with the leather pants,” Margaery informed him.

********  
  


“Well last time the pants didn’t help me any,” Loras snapped. “So excuse me if I’m just wearing jeans and a sweater tonight. Clearly I’ve not been impressing anyone.”

********  
  


Margaery watched him for a moment, lips pursed. After a moment she deduced, “Moving here fucked your confidence.”

********  
  


Loras rolled his eyes. “No shit. Now let’s go to the party so I can get trashed and forget about that.”

********  
  


When their driver dropped them at the Baratheon’s house, Margaery gave a nod of approval. “It will do,” she said. The house was almost as big as the Tyrell’s estate, and there were at least fifty cars around it, either parked or dropping people off. Hundreds of people milled around outside, and music blared from inside  the huge front doors. Luckily there were no neighboring houses nearby.

********  
  


“Well, brother,” Margaery said as they stepped indoors, “make good choices.”

********  
  


And with that she disappeared into the crowd.

********  
  


Loras, for his part, wandered around looking for the kitchen. He had a plan: get a drink first, find Jon and Sam later. When he finally came across the kitchen he saw more alcohol than he’d ever seen before in his life: hundreds of kinds lined the counters and tables, and people grabbed whole bottles as they disappeared from the room. A group of people—students, from the looks of it; Loras had seen some of them before in the hallways and classes—formed a circle, passing around shot glasses.

********  
  


Someone shouted, “Have one, Tyrell!” and thrust a shot glass into his hands. Before Loras could ask what it was the circle chanted a count down from three, and on one, along with the rest of the circle, Loras gulped the liquid back.

********  
  


It burned, and it made him feel dizzy. Though he would deny it if asked, Loras had only ever been drunk twice before. He knew he couldn't handle alcohol very well yet, but tonight he planned on getting wasted like never before, and so, steeling himself, he did one more shot for good measure before he left the kitchen. He grabbed a drink, rum with something fizzy in it, and walked back into the throng of the hallway. Before he found any of his friends he ran into someone he often talked with in history class, and by the time that conversation was over, Loras was on his fifth drink.

********  
  


The burn had begun to feel good.

********  
  


The world had slowed down by the time he saw Jon standing with Sam and someone Loras presumed to be Gilly. He couldn’t concentrate on anything, and when he approached the group and greeted them, Jon laughed at him and Sam told him he was shouting.

********  
  


“I had shots with people,” Loras told them, waving his hand toward the kitchen. “I really wanted to get drunk so I went to the kitchen and I did some shots and now I have this drink and it’s alco _hol_ ic and I’m almost finished with it but...” Loras trailed off. Suddenly he was embarrassed; he’d forgotten what he’d been talking about. He finished his drink and grabbed Jon’s. “What was I saying?”

********  
  


“Don’t worry about it, Loras,” Jon advised, clapping him on the shoulder and taking his plastic cup back. “You might want to slow down with the alcohol. And not steal my drink ever again.”

********  
  


“As if. I _like_ alcohol,” Loras informed him in a conspiratorial whisper. “ _And_ I like boys.”

********  
  


Jon and Gilly laughed, and Loras, inspired by their positive reactions, decided to keep talking about it.

********  
  


“I _really_ like boys. Boy’s hands and boy’s faces and boy’s butts. And stubble, I love stubble. Renly has stubble. Sometimes he has a little beard. And he has nice hands and a nice face and a nice butt. Do you know Renly?” Loras asked Gilly, gesticulating expansively. “He’s _really_ cute. But don’t go near him, he’s mean, and he pretends to like people when really he doesn’t. And he looks at you with his face but he _doesn’t even let you kiss it_.” He needed Gilly to understand what terrible things Renly did. He needed everyone to. “He didn’t even look at my butt! Don’t I have a nice butt? I do, right? He didn’t even look at it!”

********  
  


Someone tapped him on the shoulder. “And here you are,” Loras said sarcastically. “Speak of the Devil. Speak of the Devil’s stupid beard.”

********  
  


Renly looked affronted, and it was a very funny look; Loras giggled. Renly grabbed Loras by the arm and steered him away.

********  
  


He guided Loras up two levels of stairs and a ladder (which was a struggle, to say the least) until they stood on the floor of a loft. Much of the noise from the party was drowned out up here, which was nice because the loud music had only helped to disorient Loras further.

********  
  


"This is your room?" Loras asked, looking around. It was a large room, almost the size of Loras's own, and the ceiling sloped downward on both sides; it was almost like an attic, but more inviting. It looked similar to the way Loras had imagined it, only he couldn't soak in all the details at the moment.

********  
  


"Yes, it is. Loras, I need to talk to you. I know you've been—" he cut himself off, watching Loras as he tried to maneuver his way onto the floor. Instead of the graceful movement he'd been aiming for, Loras practically fell onto the ground. Renly grabbed his shoulders in an attempt to steady him. "How much have you had to drink?"

********  
  


"I had a... lot," Loras said cryptically, eyeing Renly and the small distance that separated them. "Why are you asking? Why are we here? Are—where's the party?" His words were slurred.

********  
  


"The party is downstairs, Loras, but right now I need you to listen to me. I heard what you were saying downstairs..." He trailed off, rubbing his chin with his hands. "God, this is going to be completely lost on you right now, isn't it?"

********  
  


Sensing his unhappiness, Loras inched closer. "No, no," he insisted, touching Renly's hands. "Tell me." He couldn't remember why he'd been mad at Renly. What had he done? Invited Loras out and abandoned him? But that didn't seem like such a bad thing now, not when Renly was so lovely right in front of him.

********  
  


Renly studied him, as of unsure whether or not he should continue. "I know I shouldn't have ignored you at the concert. It was rude and I was an ass, but I couldn't help myself, with you in those trousers. You looked too good. And I knew you were flirting with me all week and you would be interested... but I couldn't do that. You're young, and I'm foolish, and—and I like you more than I've ever liked anyone, because you're funny and clever and brilliant, but since I wanted to be with you, and you wanted to be with me... we could have been together. And I don't know if that's a good idea."

********  
  


Loras tried to follow what he was saying, but in his inebriated state it was almost impossible. What did seem like a good thing to say, however, was, "Jon said at the Dragon Flame... the Dragon Friar, Friar Dragon," what was that place called? "He said you don't like yourself because you're gay."

********  
  


Renly exhaled and looked at his feet. They were both sitting on the ground now, legs touching. "I think he's probably right."

********  
  


"But I'm gay, too. Is that why y'don't like me?"

********  
  


Renly met eyes with Loras for a full thirty seconds before he responded. "No, Loras," he said. "That's why I like you so _much_. But it's why I don't trust myself around you. I didn't trust myself, with you in those trousers," he shook his head. "God, I wanted to touch you so badly. I needed to get away, because every time I looked at you I'd get... it would be too much. And then you were leaving and I didn't know how to explain it to you, and you didn't come to the art and design studio again and I knew you thought I was an asshole. And you had every reason to."

********  
  


"I don't think you're an asshole now," Loras helpfully replied. His insides were dancing because he made Renly feel _too much_.

********  
  


A small smile crossed Renly's face. "That's because you're very drunk."

********  
  


"I'm not too drunk to do _this_ ," Loras said, and he kissed Renly on the mouth.

********  
  


Renly made a muffled noise and sat still for longer than Loras would have liked. Finally his lips moved under Loras's, and Loras brought his hands up to touch Renly's face, and it was wonderful until Renly forced Loras back.

********  
  


"Loras, you're drunk," Renly repeated gently, still holding Loras's face in his hands. "I can't do it like this."

********  
  


"You couldn't do it when I was sober," Loras said petulantly. He leaned his hands on Renly's chest, pushing against flat muscles so Renly was on the ground and Loras was on top of him, kissing his neck. In between kisses he added, "And now I know you want me, so why shouldn't I keep pushing?"

********  
  


Renly sighed, which angered Loras until he realised it was probably from the pleasure of the kisses rather than Renly's own exasperation. Or possibly it was from both. Loras continued to kiss his neck, filled with the pleasant buzz of alcohol that was quickly making him drowsy. He stopped kissing and rested his head on Renly's chest without realising what he was doing.

********  
  


Renly started to rise; Loras grumbled his disapproval.

********  
  


"I'm putting you in bed," Renly told him, helping Loras stand and moving them across a plush carpet to the bed.

********  
  


Loras collapsed on top of the comforter. "I jus' like you more than anyone," he slurred, dazed from sleepiness and alcohol. "I do."

********  
  


With a tiny, unsure smile, Renly whispered, "We'll talk tomorrow."

********  
  


Loras was already asleep.

****

******

****

Seven hours later felt a little bit like hell. Loras woke in a strange room on a soft bed that smelled like cotton and spicy cologne and boy. His head was pounding, his stomach churning, and his mouth filled with what tasted like used tissues.

********  
  


He was confused, to say the least.

********  
  


Tentatively, Loras opened his eyes. The ceiling was gray and the walls were brown; they sloped down in a way that seemed familiar to Loras, though he couldn't remember ever seeing them before. The walls were a soft brown, the same as the bedspread, and the carpet was emerald. A poster of Valyrian Steel hung on the wall and a guitar sat in the corner near a table on which a shining sewing machine sat, above it a shelf of fabrics.

********  
  


The lights were off, for which he was grateful. A small stream of sunlight came through a loose curtain, and it was just enough to illuminate the room without irritating Loras's headache. After a minute of refusing to move, Loras took a risk and raised his head.

********  
  


"Oh, God," he muttered, settling himself back onto the pillow with no small amount of pain in his skull. "It's like I've been run over by a truck."

********  
  


"You weren't, don't worry," Renly said, and Loras barely avoided a heart attack.

********  
  


He did manage to sit up in the bed— _Renly's_ bed?—without much vertigo, because he was so shocked to see that boy, all of people, camped out in a chair across the room.

********  
  


"Unless a truck came through the window in the night when I was sleeping and boarded the wall up after it," he added.

********  
  


Loras blanched. "What—where am I?"

********  
  


"My bedroom," Renly said carefully. "Alone on the bed, notice. I slept in this chair," he patted the armrest. "You were really gone. I didn't want to leave you in here without someone to make sure you were okay."

********  
  


The room was spinning; Loras's stomach was flipping. Close proximity to Renly was doing anxious things to his already-sick stomach. "I think I may throw up," he confessed.

********  
  


Renly pointed to the huge silver dish beside him. "We could go in the bathroom but I think it's occupied. There's usually a long line to the toilets after parties like this."

********  
  


They were studiously avoiding talking about what they had done the night before, and they both knew it. Loras wasn't entirely sure what had happened—God, he was bad at drinking. He'd have to improve on that if he wanted to bag a Baratheon—but he suspected it was _something_ , at least. He was lying in Renly's bed, for Christ's sake, with no recollection how he’d gotten there.

********  
  


"So are we..."

********  
  


"Maybe we shouldn't," Renly said.

********  
  


"I think we ought to," challenged Loras.

********  
  


Renly sighed. "Fine. Nothing happened between us. I'm not sure how much you remember..."

********  
  


"I remember Jon and Sam, and talking to some people from school. Not much else."

********  
  


"Right. Well what happened, basically, was—I never drink at these parties, really. But yesterday I was feeling a bit hopeless because I wanted you to come, but Sansa said she didn't think you would, and so I went downstairs to get a drink. Imagine my surprise when I saw you talking to Jon and already sloshed," he gave a wry smile. Loras, filled with trepidation over the risk of having done something mortifying last night, and feeling quite like he was rocking on a boat in the middle of a storm, didn't smile back. "Anyway. When I went up to you, you insulted me. You don't like the beard, I take it."

********  
  


Loras pursed his lips to keep himself from assuring Renly of the opposite. _I fucking love the beard and I fucking love your face underneath it._ He had a feeling those declarations could wait until he was cleared of any embarrassing drunken charges.

********  
  


"I wanted to talk to you but the music was loud, and I wanted to speak in private. So we went upstairs, and I told you—well."

********  
  


"What? Tell me."

********  
  


Renly blinked. He was divided, Loras could tell, unsure of what he should say, but also determined to finish. "I told you about why I ignored you at the concert. About how fucking _good_  you look to me, all the time, and about how you're clever and brilliant. About how badly I wanted you, and how I told myself I couldn't have you."

********  
  


Loras's lips parted.

********  
  


"You proceeded to say you wanted me back and attempt to make out with me," Renly said matter-of-factly, though his cheeks were light pink.

********  
  


Loras's cheeks were much more than light pink: they were the colour of a firetruck. "I—make out? You mean like... make out?"

********  
  


"Generally that's what it means, yes. I... pushed you off, if that makes you feel better. I told you I couldn't, when you were so drunk."

********  
  


"I'm not drunk now," Loras pointed out.

********  
  


"No, you're just hungover like never before."

********  
  


Loras groaned. "I'm not very good at getting drunk."

********  
  


That wry smile again. "I know."

********  
  


"Was it... did I..." Oh, fuck it. "Was it really embarrassing?"

********  
  


Renly stood from his chair and walked to the bed. He sat down next to Loras, careful not to move the bed and aggravate Loras's hungover body. "No," he said quietly, running his hand up where Loras's arm was under the covers. He sounded sincere, and Loras breathed a sigh of relief. "No, you didn't embarrass yourself. I was more embarrassed than anything. I feel bad... Loras, I feel horrible for being an asshole to you. I just, I don't always know what to do in situations like this. My brothers are the closest things I'll ever have to parents, and they would never approve—"

********  
  


Loras would have kissed him if he didn’t feel like he had dead rodent in his mouth. Instead he put two fingers to the other boy's lips and held them there.

********  
  


"We will make do."

********  
  


"But—"

********  
  


"Stoppit."

********  
  


Renly grinned a slow, languorous grin; he held back a laugh. After a moment Loras felt the bed move next to him, and Renly laid beside him. Loras pointed to the throw up bowl in warning. "I could need that any minute."

********  
  


"And I'll get it for you, if you do." He stroked Loras's hair.

********  
  


Suddenly Loras remembered something from the night before. "Wait... you were doing that last night. Weren't you? I remember the feeling of you stroking my hair. I think I woke up to it at one point. Feels nice."

********  
  


Renly was trying not to look like he wished Loras hadn't remembered that. "It's very nice hair," he said after a while.

********  
  


"It is," Loras agreed. "Is that what attracted you to me, at first? You drew my hair on that clothing sketch."

********  
  


"Oh!" Renly exclaimed, getting up from the bed too fast and jolting Loras, whose stomach highly objected.

********  
  


"Ugh. God, be careful!"

********  
  


"Sorry, sorry. I'm just—I completely forgot." He was across the room at the table covered in fabrics and a sewing machine. He picked up something Loras couldn't see and brought it over behind his back. "I got something for you. Well, I made it. It's yours." From behind his back he pulled out the flowing, Medieval shirt Loras had seen in the sketch of himself, the first time he had been in the art and design studio.

********  
  


It was a beautiful piece of clothing, soft and light. "You made this for me," Loras confirmed. Renly rejoined him on the bed, and nodded. "Do I have to pay for it?"

********  
  


Renly laughed. "No, no, I was joking about that. When I become very famous and well-known and design clothes for celebrities, maybe then," he joked, smiling gently. "But this is a gift."

********  
  


"You should fold it and put it somewhere it won't get vomit on it, as I should be sick any minute."

********  
  


"You're just using that as an excuse because you don't want to have to move."

********  
  


"Precisely. I shall spend the rest of the day in your bed."

********  
  


Renly snorted. "And the day after that?"

********  
  


"And the day after that. And after that, and forever and ever until my hangover is gone and we can make out again. I missed out on it last time, you see."

********  
  


"I see, I see," Renly said, snuggling up close to the other boy. He put a hand in Loras's hair. "You're very cute when you're drunk, you know. Tenacious. Insistent. Shockingly honest, which was what I needed." He paused. "Do you really think my beard is stupid?"

********  
  


Loras tried not to laugh, he really did. "I hate it," he said, reaching out and putting his palm against Renly's cheek. "I hate it especially when it's just stubble, and it makes me think of how it would feel against my skin if we kissed. How it would leave marks and I would feel them later on and be reminded of you." He whispered, "mostly I hate that because the thought makes me hard at awkward times, like when we're in the art and design studio and Sansa's watching us like a hawk across the room."

********  
  


"Goodness," Renly said, "allow me to rephrase: you're shockingly honest all the time. I quite like it."

********  
  


"Mm. Um. Renly?"

********  
  


"Would you like the bucket now?"

********  
  


Loras, otherwise occupied with being sick, didn't need to reply. Renly got a water bottle off his bedside table and continued to stroke Loras's hair.


	4. Promise

_Four months later_ _**** _

"This is some sick hair obsession you have," Loras informed him as they lay, once again, side by side in Renly's bed. Renly’s hands were tangled in his boyfriend’s hair.

**  
**

“It’s just so _curly_ ,” Renly said sincerely, “and _soft_. If I could make clothes out of this they’d sell in an instant.”

**  
**

Loras smirked. “You think that just because you got into the best fashion school in the country you’ll be a millionaire designer soon, do you?”

**  
**

“Mm,” Renly agreed. “I’ll need to be if I want you to stick around.”

**  
**

“Oh, you know I don’t care about money. Much.”

**  
**

Chuckling, Renly said, “I know. But I won’t take chances.”

**  
**

For a moment Loras grinned back. Then his smile faded. “What am I going to do when you’re in design school... and I’m in high school?”

**  
**

Renly exhaled heavily and rolled on top of Loras, draping himself over the other man’s body. “We will make do,” he said, and Loras noted the parroting of words he had spoken four month previously. Last time he had said them, they _had_ made do. They had worked together to help Renly get over his tredidation, and they'd figured out how to have a relationship. Now Renly was turning the phrase around to quell Loras’s worries, and, though Loras wouldn't admit it, he was secretly appreciative.

**  
**

“But—”

**  
**

Renly interrupted him with a kiss. “It’s only an hour’s plane ride away. I’ll come up on weekends when I can.”

**  
**

“And when you can’t?”

**  
**

Mouth on Loras’s ear, Renly whispered, “I’ll use my hand.”

**  
**

Loras shivered.

**  
**

“But,” Renly continued, travelling down Loras’s body to his hips and deftly undoing his belt and zipper, “as I’m here now...”

**  
**

“Let’s fuck.”

**  
**

Instead of spoken agreement Renly decided to wrap his lips around Loras’s cock.

**  
**

“Wait!”

**  
**

Renly pulled back, annoyed. “What could possibly be more important than a blowjob?”

**  
**

Loras fingered the laces on his shirt, wrapping the leather strings in his hands and pulling them gently. “You made me this. I don’t want to get it dirty.”

**  
**

A soft look crossed Renly’s face, and he reached to wrap Loras’s hands in his own. He didn’t say anything, but Loras knew what he was thinking.

**  
**

He felt it, too.

**  
**

“Quickly,” Loras whispered, and Renly took off his hand-made shirt, folded it, and placed it on the bedside table. Loras watched him, and when Renly leaned back over to resume his task, his body caught fire. He loved seeing Renly like this, mouth and cheeks growing redder along with Loras’s cock. Renly’s eyes were closed and his hands were working the part of Loras’s cock that he couldn’t get into his mouth. He was so beautiful. All the time, of course, but Loras thought especially now. Especially like this.

**  
**

The only time he was more beautiful was when he was moving over Loras’s body, and getting his pleasure from it.

**  
**

As if he could read his mind, Renly opened his eyes, released Loras’s cock from a gleaming red mouth, and grabbed lube from the bedside table.

**  
**

“Fuck, yes,” Loras groaned. He struggled to get his trousers and briefs off as he watched Renly pour the shining liquid onto his fingers.

**  
**

“So needy,” Renly whispered, and smirked. He slid a finger between Loras’s crack and rubbed the outside of his hole. Loras bit his lip to keep from moaning again. “You love this part.”

**  
**

“Every part,” Loras corrected, gasping. Renly added another finger.

**  
**

It was these moments Loras often felt he lived for: Renly looked like a king, like a lord, towering above him with power and love, moving his fingers in that way he had mastered. Loras didn’t feel the third finger go in; he was so enveloped by the pleasure that he wasn’t called back to the moment until Renly had his cock lined up.

**  
**

“Ready?”

**  
**

Loras nodded. It was always a struggle to relax as Renly was entering him, but he had found that, actually, when he was properly prepared, clenching felt good for both of them. This was one of those times. Renly cursed, and Loras couldn’t keep himself from crying out. He wrapped a hand around his cock.

**  
**

“That’s so good,” he moaned. “Yes, Renly, god, that’s so good, it’s so perfect, please.”

**  
**

Renly grasped his boyfriend’s legs and used them as leverage to get further inside. It was better than anything Loras could imagine, anything he had imagined before he’d met Renly.

**  
**

“Look at me,” Renly implored, and Loras’s eyes snapped open. He hadn’t realised he’d closed them. “Yes.”

**  
**

If Loras had been in any other situation, he would have managed a flirty, _No, you,_ or a snippy _Obviously_. Now, though, he was unable to do anything but grip his cock harder. Renly ran his hands on every part of Loras’s body he could reach.

**  
**

“Fuck,” Renly hissed.

**  
**

“Close,” Loras agreed.

**  
**

After three more thrusts, Loras felt a shock go through his body. He stiffened and came, clenching harder around Renly, whose orgasm followed quickly. Streams of white coated Loras’s hand and stomach, and as Renly gently pulled out he felt more liquid leaking from him.

**  
**

Neither said anything; they laid side-by-side, body on body, sweat on sweat, waiting for the jelly to leave their limbs.

**  
**

After a few minutes, Renly leaned over and kissed him, deeply and gently. Rather than a premise for sex it was a promise for love.

**  
**

“You’re wonderful,” Renly whispered.

**  
**

Loras kissed his nose. “Aren’t you happy you aren’t still uncomfortable with being gay?”

**  
**

“God, yes,” Renly murmured. “You opened my eyes on the drunken night of yours.”

**  
**

Loras stuck his tongue out. Renly kissed it.

**  
**

“We’ll sort out design school when I get there,” Renly quietly assured him. “Don’t worry. I won’t give you up so easily.”

**  
**

“I would hope not,” Loras muttered.

**  
**

“If for no other reason than to get to see you in those leather pants.”

**  
**

Loras bit him on the shoulder.

**  
**

“Kinky,” Renly grinned.

**  
**

After a long yawn, Loras smiled and winked. “You have no idea.”

**  
**

Running a hand through Loras’s hair and biting his lip, Renly shrugged. “Actually, I might.” He said. Then, simply, “I’m glad you’ve grown to like it here. I’m glad you didn’t go back to Highgarden.”

**  
**

“It’s because of you that I stayed,” Loras said.

**  
**

“I know.”

**  
**

Valyrian Steel played in the background. The song was about surprising discoveries, and Loras sensed a theme.


End file.
